


Nothing Can Be Done

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Breathplay, Discussion of Natasha's Past, Drinking, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingering, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Past Brainwashing, Past Rape/Non-con, Post Traumatic Stress, Public Sex, Red Room, Rough Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Weed, friends first, partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8389969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: An exploration of Natasha and Clint's early relationship as they get to know each other as partners.





	1. Chapter 1

Natasha caught Clint’s eye from across the small hotel room. He’d been sitting there watching out the window since they’d gotten here. He wasn’t worried so much as someone who didn’t like to be walled in. Sometimes Natasha thought that he’d rather sleep outside under the stars. That intrigued her about her partner. Other than the initial meeting, Clint had kept it totally above board. In that initial meeting, though, they’d both been in spy mode and he was sent to kill her. As a matter of fact, he’d been a perfect gentleman. That was surprising considering the fact that she had never been with a man more than ten minutes before he tried to grab her ass. “Anything?” 

He shook his head and went back to watching out the window. “All quiet on the western front.” Natasha was drawn to Clint Barton like a moth to a flame from early on. She didn’t understand him and that was unique. Most men were simple. In a lot of respects, Clint was driven how most men were. Food, sex, sleep… it was typical. But Clint also had eyes that said he’d seen a lot, just like her. Natasha was constantly trying to understand her partner, but Clint didn’t give her much to go on most days. Occasionally he’d drop a little comment here or there, but mostly Clint was a quiet guy. It was a blessing, really. He wasn’t a guy who showboated just to impress her, he did it because it amused him and there was power in that.

“Will you help me?” Natasha came close and turned around, offering the zipper on the back of her dress. Clint reached up and pulled it down without any preamble, not bothering to stop halfway down like most guys would, he just tugged it down then went back to looking out the window. Natasha walked away a little confused. “Are you gay?” 

That got his attention. Clint’s head spun around and he just shook his head. “No. Do I seem gay?”

“… no.” Natasha let the dress drop while he was looking at her, making sure he saw all of her. The dress had been lined with a longline bra so she was bare to the waist, just underpants, stockings, and heels on. The look Clint gave her for that split second said enough. Clint looked at her like a starving man in front of a buffet. _So… not gay._ At least that was good news for her. Clint _could_ be swayed. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re one of those red-blooded heterosexual males I’m always hearing about. And yet you barely look at me.” 

“You’re my partner,” Clint said with gathered brows and genuine confusion on his face. 

“True,” Natasha came closer, looking up at Clint. He was a good looking guy who’d had his nose broken a few times so not only did he look good, he looked like a badass. That was kind of Natasha’s wheelhouse as far as men she was actually attracted to. “That doesn’t mean we can’t spend the time waiting for our ride in a more pleasurable way than staring out the window.”

“You going to order a pizza,” Clint said with a smirk. His eyes cut down to Natasha’s breasts, lingered a moment, then he looked up. “They’re really nice,” Clint nodded. “I assume since you’re standing here naked you’d like commentary?” 

“Not particularly. Appreciation I’ll take, though.” Natasha decided to push it a little and gave him a slow turn, showing off the fact that her underpants barely covered her bottom. Clint let out a low whistle and she could almost feel his fingers twitch. “Am I not your type?” 

“Agent Romanov, I believe you’re everyone’s type.” He gave her a little wink. “I also believe that that’s because you make yourself everyone’s type.” Natasha turned and looked at him. “I have no interest in you making yourself a reflection of what you think I want.” Clint nodded to his sweatshirt hanging off the hook on the door. “Feel free to use it if you get cold.” Clint went over and sat at the window again, looking out for awhile before turning around with a little smile. “I was serious about the pizza.”


	2. Chapter 2

Their next job was in the jungle, the actual, literal jungle. Natasha was less than thrilled, but grateful to have Clint with her. She could survive on her own, but he had these extra skills that were helping out here. He knew how to make a hammock from vines and where in the trees to put it so the animals wouldn’t get them. They were currently working a survival expedition. They had a task, a goal, but mostly it was: can you survive in the Savage Lands? Natasha knew she could do it on her own, but with Clint there at her side, she felt like it was going to be easier. 

“Have you put up the netting?” They’d been left in the jungle with just the packs on their back. They’d been careful when packing, making sure nothing was duplicated and there wasn’t one extraneous thing between them. 

“Not yet.” Natasha took it from him and started to climb the tree that would be their home for the night. Clint had already strung up both hammocks, so all she had to do was put up the netting. “Careful that’s….” Natasha felt the branch give out from under her, but managed to stay up with a little extra effort. The problem was that her hammock was now fucked and on the ground at the feet of a big lion. “Damn it.” Clint grabbed both packs and hurried up the tree. He was a damn spider monkey when he climbed and Natasha was kind of amazing that a man as muscular as Clint could manage the acrobatics with such ease. 

Clint met Natasha up by his hammock, sitting on the branch looking down at the lion who was pacing. “Where did he come from?” 

“He’s been following us for awhile. We may have to tree hop if he doesn’t fuck off soon.” Clint was clearly annoyed. “I don’t want to shoot it.” He sincerely didn’t and Natasha found that weirdly endearing. He looked at the lion with real respect and interest. Who would have thought Clint Barton would have a soft spot for animals? 

They stayed like that, sitting in the tree, for a couple of hours before the lion left. Natasha watched Clint latch ropes around himself then tie them off to the tree. “What are you doing?” 

“Well you’re sleeping there, so I have to find a spot.” 

“You’re giving me your hammock?” Natasha was surprised and kind of touched. 

“When was the last time you slept in a tree before this little expedition?” Clint’s voice was more like a patient father than her partner. “Exactly. I do this shit all the time.” 

“What about the netting?” Natasha worried for him. Would he get bitten by something? “How much weight do you think this thing will hold?” Natasha looked at the vine hammock he’d lined with the plastic tarp and reinforced the shit out of. It was slung between a fork in the branches big enough for Clint. 

“Four, five hundred pounds.” Clearly Clint’s mind wasn’t where hers was. 

“You’re sleeping in the hammock with me.” It was safer, plus it got cool in the jungle at night. “No arguments, Barton.” She looked at it and considered how to best arrange themselves. “Now go lay down and I’ll figure out a way to get in there with you.” Clint didn't argue, just shifted over in the tree before easing himself into the hammock. She heard his bones crack, watching the way he laid out to see if he was actually hurt. “You’re leaving your boots on?” 

“Might have to run,” Clint reasoned as he held his hand out to steady Natasha. She carefully climbed in, settling against his chest. It was awkward as hell, but eventually they found a position. Face-to-face with her curled in against his chest worked. They were wedged in, but Natasha found it strangely comforting. He wrapped his arm around her, strong and firm. How long had it been since a man had held her? And longer still, how long since she’d been happy to be held? “Ok?” Clint reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face with a little smile. 

“Yeah, thinking.” 

Clint shook his head at her. “That’s a dangerous thing.” He gave her a little squeeze. “Daybreak comes early, Nat.” And with that, Natasha watched Clint will himself to sleep. He had that talent lifelong military men had to be able to sleep at the drop of a hat when in combat. “Good night little spider.” 

She smiled at the nickname and ran her hand down his arm. “Good night, Hawkguy.”


	3. Chapter 3

Clint was at the bar, playing the down on his luck businessman while making sure Natasha didn’t get a bullet in the skull. She was here to steal some credentials. He’d been there for hours drinking from a bottle of vodka he’d swapped out early on. The expensive bottle of hotel vodka was in his briefcase while the bottle they’d filled with water before, sat on the bar. Despite drinking nothing but water for a couple of hours, Clint was looking progressively more trashed. 

Pretending to be a drunk was pretty easy for him considering he’d studied up close and personal as a kid. Of course he didn’t go to the extents his father had. No, Clint was more of a sad drunk, his head eventually winding up on the bar. That allowed him to site the man’s briefcase. He quietly confirmed that the one they had was identical and could easily be swapped out. In reality the actual process took moments. Natasha reached over and ran her fingers up her mark’s thigh, taking a moment before she pressed her lips to his. Clint quietly watched, signaling Natasha with a buzz to her comms when the deed was done. 

What came next, Clint didn’t like. Natasha would wait for him to suggest going up to his room. He gave her credit because she’d do what it took to complete the mission. On the other hand, the sounds of panting and groaning through the comms was agonizing for him. It bothered him that she had to use her body as she did. Clint would never ask and she very rarely told, but her encounter would typically end when she slipped a small patch onto the mark’s wrist. It had a slow release drug that would put them to sleep before she had to do too much. At least that was what Clint hoped. 

Clint settled up with the bartender about ten minutes after Natasha left, hustling across the street in a drunken stumble to get to his perch. He’d have a view from the fire escape of an empty warehouse. She would have brought him to the window to look out onto the night at some point, him telling her about the view. She was playing it Russian tonight, something the diplomat took to mean she knew nothing of the city. regardless, the chatter meant that he now had a good view of Natasha and the man kissing. 

He’d pulled her into his lap, her dress hiked up enough to show off a bit of thigh. Clint told himself not to think of her that way. She was his partner, his friend, and it was uncool to think of how sexy she was when she was on the job. Her hair hung in ringlets, bound up at the back of her head with just the ends bouncing. That was so she could reach up and unfasten it. She did this thing where she shook her head a little, swaying enough so her hair would tumble down like a girl in a romance movie. She was buying time, slowly seducing the man as agents furiously copied everything he’d had in the briefcase. 

It took about ten more minutes of Natasha sucking on the diplomat’s face for them to finish putting the briefcase back in order. When it was ready, Natasha was signaled. She slipped the dissolving patch onto the man’s wrist and within two minutes, the guy was snoring. “This guy tastes like he ate a raw onion. Whole.” Natasha climbed out of his lap, looking directly at Clint across the street in his perch. “Signal them to bring me the case. I’m going to search the room.” 

“He looks greasy.” Clint watched Natasha move around the suite freely, not bothering to put her dress back on. He had to admit, she looked incredible. Clint’s eyes clung to her through his scope, turning away when she bent over because the tightening in his groin was not cool. She was his fucking partner. He heard the knock, relieved that she could get out of there because it meant she’d put clothes back on and Clint would stop thinking about how pale her thighs were. It was fairly certain that he’d have this burned into his memory if he wanted it or not. 

She searched the room and switched the briefcases before casually walking back to the elevator, to the lobby, and right out the front door. Natasha was good. She was incredibly good at what she did and Clint had to admit that some of the arousal he was feeling was because of that. She was a match for him and that was something that didn’t happen. Like ever. “See you at home,” Natasha said softly before she slipped into a taxi outside the hotel. From here she’d travel to the hangar where their quinjet was waiting. There were other agents there, but the two of them were going straight from New York to Tokyo for another mission. 

Clint packed up his things and signed off of comms before he hopped into the SHIELD SUV and headed to the hangar. Natasha had been there a little while and had already changed by the time Clint got back. In a slinky dress that clung to her curves or in a SHIELD t-shirt and sweats, Natasha was a stunning woman. She’d pulled her hair up into a braid and pulled one of his hoodies from his bag on. It was pretty common that she’d do that, not caring about privacy, but it was Natasha. “Good thing I packed two.” In reality, he’d packed two because he knew she’d steal it. Natasha just smiled a little and zipped it up. 

“I picked up burgers,” was all she said before heading inside the quinjet. Clint took a minute to stow his gear before joining her in the cockpit. He found a couple of bags of burgers and a giant chocolate-banana shake from his favorite burger joint. 

Clint smiled, flopping down in the pilot’s seat. “Plying me with meat and grease so you can keep that hoodie?” She cocked her head to the side just a little bit, a tiny smirk on her lips. “I knew it.” Clint reached over and flicked one of the strings so it smacked her in the cheek before he did pre-flight checks. That didn’t mean Clint didn’t immediately go for the shake and take a giant slug. “So good.” Natasha seemed genuinely pleased that he was pleased. That warmed him. Clint wasn’t used to being warmed by another person. 

They were in the air on autopilot when Clint finally got to his burger. He tore into it with gusto, groaning deeply. “Good?” Clint nodded. “I went medium-rare.” He nodded again, chewing slowly and savoring the taste. Usually Clint went with medium-well, but Natasha was a firm believer in rare meat. She’d met him in the middle, which he appreciated. “Seasoned fries or curly fries?” 

“Curly.” She pulled the fries out and handed them over. “Spicy ketchup?” She handed over the small container and Clint smiled. Natasha knew him so well. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” 

“It’s a long flight,” Natasha reasoned as she kicked her feet up and stretched back in her seat. Natasha sort of settled in and they ate quietly, some of Clint’s music over the speakers in the background. They were over the Atlantic when she spoke again. “Your bottle swap at the bar was masterful.” Compliments from Natasha could be hard to come by, but when she gave them she meant them. 

“Your act was, too.” Clint was finished with his burger and was kind of disappointed it was done. “How do you deal with how gross the guy was? I saw that zit.” 

“I don't think about him,” she told Clint. It was clear that _him_ meant all the men she’d had to seduce in her line of work. “I tune him out and focus on someone else. I have a very good imagination,” Natasha pointed out as she fished into the bag and pulled out a second burger. “Medium well in case you didn’t like the medium rare.” 

“You’re fuckin’ amazing.” Clint gave her a genuine smile and detected a slight blush on Natasha’s cheeks. He was two bites in before he spoke, “so who’s the guy, then? Or girl.” He held up one hand. “No judgement. Just, who do you think about?” Clint leaned forward to wipe a bit of mayonnaise from the control board, frowning. Coulson was going to write him up for that if he didn’t get the shredded lettuce out of it. “Damn.” 

“Toothpicks,” Natasha took his burger and handed over a couple of toothpicks and some napkins. “You’ll get farther than with your nail.” Clint did as she told him and protested mildly when she took a bite of his burger. “Thought well done meat was no better than shoe leather.” 

“It’s not my favorite, but I’m not someone who turns down food.” It had been made pretty clear that control of food and water was a tactic the Red Room hadn’t hesitated on using. Beyond that, there had been lean times for her while she was on the run from SHIELD. “I think about different people, sometimes,” Natasha told him, “I make grocery lists for food I want to learn how to cook.” She could memorize a recipe, but for some reason Natasha was a disaster in the kitchen. 

“Grocery lists, so his hands on your …” Clint’s eyes ran over her chest. It was obscured at the moment but he remembered just how displayed it had been earlier. 

“Breasts, Clint. They’re called breasts.”

“His hand’s on your breast,” Clint repeated putting emphasis on the word, “and you’re thinking ‘gee, I wonder if I need heavy cream for that recipe.’?” Clint had mimicked her, raising his tone and earning a solid punch in the arm for it. “Ow.” He winced. “Seriously. I’ve had do do it a couple of times, and I can flirt. Don’t get me wrong,” he smirked and got a roll of the eyes from Natasha. “But when it gets physical and I don’t find them attractive … it’s hard.” 

“Or rather it’s not,” Natasha asked coyly with a raised brow.    
“Funny.” Clint flicked a toothpick at her before reclaiming his burger. “Hey, I didn’t get to tell you before, but that dress is nice.” He nodded to the garment bag that contained the tight purple dress Natasha had been wearing. She gave him an odd look but nodded a thanks before stealing his last fry. “Not fair. You distracted me with thoughts of your feminine wiles.” 

“Feminine wiles,” Natasha asked. “Breasts, Clint. They’re called breasts.” 

“Yeah, those are real nice too.” She was pushing it, so maybe he could too. Just a little bit. “I tried not to look at first, but it is my job to watch you.” 

Natasha seemed to weigh out the words before accepting them. “It is. Why do you think I picked the chair at that window?” 

“For the view,” Clint questioned as he scrounged in the bag for any leftover fries. 

“Because I could see you too. I knew where you were.” Natasha raised her brow just a little. Clint started to replay angles in his head so he could figure out if she was telling him something. Natasha spoke in riddles sometimes. Clint felt like he was a decently smart guy. He ought to understand what she was saying, but if she was saying what he thought she might be… Well that wasn’t going to end well. “I was watching you the whole time.” She had a pair of flip flops on and kicked them off so she could curl her feet up under her in the seat. “Watching you watching me… It helped me not to focus on the wart the guy had on his index finger.” 

Clint thought maybe he should say something, but all he could think of to say was about how she’d moved, about how he had to keep refocusing himself to make sure she wasn’t in danger. That wouldn’t be welcome, though. That meant he hadn’t been doing his job. He’d been focused on her curves, not on having her back. “Well you did good.” It was all he could say, really. Clint refocused on his controls and ignored a little huff of annoyance from Natasha before she leaned her seat back and closed her eyes. Clint was grateful for the respite and the chance to get himself under control. He had some serious thinking to do.


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s a pretty normal thing,” Coulson told Clint as they stood next to each other on the firing range. “She’s flirting with you.”

“She’s … not.” But it sounded weak even to Clint’s ears. “All the more reason. I’m distracted. She should have someone covering her who’s able to focus.” 

“Clint, this is the first time in all the years we’ve worked together that I’ve had you beg off a mission. I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I trust that you know yourself well enough. I’ll get her a replacement for the next mission but you have to figure it out.” Coulson squeezed off half a clip before nodding down range to a leggy blonde Clint knew too well. “Look who has excellent timing.” 

Coulson was well-aware of Bobbi and Clint’s quickie marriage and divorce within the span of six months. That didn’t mean they weren’t still each other’s sexual chew toys. Bobbi was incredible in bed, but she was a real piece of work sometimes. She could be incredibly sweet, or Satan in a tactical suit. Regardless, she was tempting. “Coulson,” Natasha’s voice cut his gawking at Bobbi short. “Barton.” She slid into the stall next to them, put on her headphones and proceeded to hit her target in the middle of the face a dozen times before pausing. Clint didn’t know if it was a message or if Natasha would even care if he slept with Bobbi, but the timing seemed too coincidental and Natasha was kind of possessive of him and Coulson. 

Clint and Coulson finished their shooting and parted ways, Clint heading to the gym while Coulson headed for his desk and a pack of powdered sugar donuts no doubt. Clint had to get him into the gym so they could spar. Coulson could box and had a right hook that could put down pretty much anyone, but he was getting a little puffy. “Want to get a drink?” He had spotted Bobbi behind him but it took her a few minutes to announce herself. Despite everything his mind was telling him, Little Hawkeye was starting to point north just being this close to Bobbi when she smelled like sweat and cordite. 

“No.” He opened the door to a supply closet and pulled her inside. Clint turned her to face the wall, kissing Bobbi’s neck. She knew exactly what he wanted and was already unbuckling her belt. The moment her belt opened and her zipper pulled down, Clint grabbed her wrists, pulling them over her head. “Keep them there or I’ll cuff you.” Bobbi’s hands wrapped around the edges of an exposed I-beam as Clint’s fingers made their way between her thighs. Bobbi groaned as his fingers moved between her folds. She always got a little wet when she finished on the range and Clint took advantage of it, using two fingers inside as his lips caressed her throat. 

Bobbi was fond of tank tops and Clint was glad for it, pulling it up and off just before his own shirt joined hers on the ground. “Clint!” Bobbi’s thighs spread farther, pulling one leg out of her jeans to put it up on a box. He wasn’t gentile as he pulled an orgasm from her, knowing that Bobbi was never a girl who was finished after one. Clint didn’t resist sinking his teeth into her shoulder as his free hand slipped inside the cup of her bra. Bobbi’s legs were trembling. He knew damn well that meant she was on the verge. “Clint, please.” 

He slipped his hand over her mouth, holding firmly. “Do I need to gag you?” Just to show he could and because Bobbi got turned on by it, Clint pinched off her nose and covered her mouth fully with his palm as he relentlessly rocked his fingers around her clit. He’d cupped in hard enough to trap it far below the little nub that showed. He was moving down the root of her clit, rubbing down the length through layers of slick flesh. She started to shake, gasping behind his hand as her fingers scrabbled at the beam. She could have dropped them at any moment, but Bobbi didn’t. She wouldn’t because she was right there. He moved his palm just a touch so she could grab a little breath before reforming the seal. “You love this,” he growled in her ear. “You need it.” Bobbi nodded, shaking hard as she cried out behind his hand, thighs clamping down around his hand. 

Bobbi depended on Clint to keep her upright, just falling into her orgasm. Bobbi was great like that. She loved sex, loved being tossed around. Clint wasn’t always up for that, but when he was they could be explosive. “Fuck me.” It was all she said before turning to kiss him hard, drawing blood on her way out of the kiss by pulling her teeth over his bottom lip. She turned back, shaking out her arms a little as she bent at the waist and braced herself. 

It was a good thing that Clint was the kind of guy who came prepared to the party. He pulled out his wallet, grabbing a condom. He pushed his hand down into the small of Bobbi’s back, making her arch as he laid the condom on the rise of her ass. “Spread your legs and don’t drop that.” His hands moved over her thighs, rubbing his thumbs up the pale, soft insides. “You have a really great ass.” Clint gave it a hard slap before attending to the matter of dropping his own pants. It didn’t take much to get him from _almost ready_ to _full attention_ , and when he could, Clint picked up the condom and opened it. “Rub your clit,” he demanded as he rolled the rubber down. “I know you like to put on a show, Birdie.” 

Clint knew what that nickname did to her and watched Bobbi’s face soften. It was a sort of check for them. She pushed back into him, eager and a touch emotional. “Shut up and fuck me.” Bobbi was still rubbing her clit, but had turned back, clearly needing not to be looking at him for a minute. That was ok. They both had their issues. They were imperfect people coming together to try to make the best of things. That was what he told himself as he pushed into her, knowing in the first seconds how bad an idea this was. Clint loved Bobbi. He wouldn’t have married her if he hadn’t, and he was pretty sure that Bobbi had been sincere when she’d married him too. That meant there was emotion and emotion fucked things up. 

Her hands came back to his hips when he pushed in, holding him tight enough to bruise. Clint knew better than to say anything. He gathered up her hair, gently bringing it into his palm and closing his fingers. When he started moving, Clint didn’t care that they were making a lot of noise. He did try to quiet Bobbi with a short lived effort that involved him shoving a block of post-its between her teeth. “Shut up,” he growled. That only got her moaning louder. They went hard, Bobbi’s hands leaving his hips eventually to run over her own body as Clint pumped into her. Bobbi’s hips were hollowed and it was clear she was positioning herself to get some extra internal stimulation. “That’s it. Take what you need, Birdie.” His teeth ran around the shell of her ear as he pulled her close, one hand gripping her bouncing right breast. 

She got incredibly quiet, her body dancing around his cock. These quiet, powerful orgasms were the ones that would exhaust her, give her the respite from her mind that Bobbi was always after. They were also the kind of orgasms that meant Clint didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of keeping it together. He came, muffling the sound of her name on his lips by turning his face into the sweaty hair at the nape of her neck. “You’re good, Bobbi. So fuckin’ good,” Clint panted as his hand smoothed down her breastbone. She was covered in sweat just like him, the close quarters adding to the equation. He pulled out when they’d both caught their breath a little, tying off the condom and tossing it into a garbage can in the corner meant for empty pen boxes and crinkly plastic wrap. 

They straightened themselves out pretty quickly, Bobbi stealing a kiss before she left. He gave her a moment to get a bit of distance before he thunked his head quietly on the door a few times. “Fuck. So stupid.” A few more thunks and Clint had a headache. He buckled his belt and headed out, bagging up the garbage and taking it with him. He wasn’t a total asshole. He wasn’t going to leave his used condom for someone else to clean up. He was a dick, but he wasn’t _that_ much of a dick. Clint stole a box of pens on his way out mostly to make hand held cross bows with their hollowed out corpses, closing the door behind him to find Natasha waiting behind it. “Fuck, you scared me.” 

“Yeah, well listening to you have sex wasn’t exactly fun either. Come on, we have a mission.” She turned on her heel and headed down the hall. “The least you could do is thank me,” Natasha pointed out. “I did wait until you were finished.” 

“Thanks?” She did have a point. “You could have texted me,” Clint pointed out. 

“I could have,” Natasha agreed. “Come on. We have bad guys to kill.” She was clearly a little annoyed, but she was being far cooler than Clint thought she might. That was good, wasn’t it? Clint hustled to catch up with Natasha because while he contemplated her reaction, he realized he was also staring at her ass. _Not cool_ , he told himself sharply. _You’re supposed to be watching her back, not her ass. THIS is the problem!_


	5. Chapter 5

Clint had a shitty little apartment in Bed Stuy that he spent very little time at, but right now he was on a couple of days leave. The doctor checking him over after his last mission said he’d strained a few muscles and needed a break. Clint found himself relieved. It meant he had a couple of days to sit around on his ass, watch bad TV, and smoke a joint or twelve. He wasn’t a fan of the pharmaceuticals that he’d been given, a lot of heavy opiates that screwed him up more long-term. Instead of popping a Vicodin, he was going to be enjoying some very tasty greens from a friend in ops. 

It took him awhile to dig it out, but eventually he found a lighter. He sat, listening to an old Rangers game while he broke up his treat. Clint was humming lightly, no particular song, just glad to enjoy a couple of days to himself even if he was sore as hell. He had just started to roll the joint when there was a knock at his door. Clint hung his head and hoped they’d go away. He put everything he’d been working on in the nearest drawer. His beer traveled with him to the door, pulling it open after he peeked through the peephole. “It’s a long way to come steal a hoodie,” Clint said as he opened the door. 

“An even longer way to bring you a burrito and some homemade salve for your aches.” Natasha slid past Clint into his place, looking around. She was sizing him up from this place. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been in his room on the base. They hung out all the time. This was different. This was home. “Double steak and shrimp,” she told Clint as she handed off the bag with the food in it. 

“And… what is that,” Clint asked as he nodded to the container in her hand. “Homemade salve?” 

“Old recipe, something that’s always worked for pain. Though…” She sniffed the air a little bit. “Do I detect the pungent scent of something else to take the pain away?” She caught his hand, bringing his fingertips to her nose. “Oh… that’s nice,” she nodded in approval. “You eat, I’ll roll.” And just like that, Clint’s plans for time alone evaporated. It was ok because it was Natasha, but still. Clint sat down and listened to her tell him how Coulson had looked back on their records and realized how long it was since either of them had time off. “And that is how I wound up with a week off.” 

Clint could hear the fear in her voice despite the smile on her lips. “You’ve never had time off.” Natasha’s eyes cut up to him quickly then back down to the drawer she was retrieving papers and the grinder from. “You could have gone to some sun kissed beach,” Clint pointed out. 

“Too pale,” Natasha pointed out. She worked carefully, with knowing fingers. It was fascinating to Clint so he let her do it. “Besides… it wouldn’t be a trip to Bed Stuy. How could I say no to that?” Clint didn’t point out that no one had asked. Her coming here was huge in and of itself. “I can go if…”

“Natasha,” Clint reached out and gave her knee a pat. “Stick around. I’m just going to be a lazy bastard. You’re welcome to stay.” He had a couch and a bed, it would be fine. Besides, it was clear she was desperate for the company. He didn’t imagine the Black Widow was one to enjoy being alone with her thoughts. “You could have told him you didn’t want the time off.” 

“I did.” Natasha had just finished twisting off the end of one joint. She set it aside and proceeded to start a second one. “It’s better to roll a few when you’re sober.” She did have a point. “Coulson insisted. Other than being in medical and benched for training, we’ve been in the field for the last 639 days.” That gave Clint pause. More than a year, almost two. No breaks other than when he’d been shot and she’d broken her wrist. Well, that and the constant barrage of training they underwent. 

“That can’t be right.” Clint tried to think of a time in the last two years when he hadn’t seen Natasha. “… that’s … I mean that’s the job. You give up beaches and margaritas. It is what it is.” Clint didn’t really want to talk about work. “You ever played tourist in your own city?” Natasha looked up, the tip of her pink tongue running over the glue on the paper just barely wetting it. Clint decided he needed to have some burrito because focusing on the tip of Natasha’s tongue was not exactly a friendly thought. 

“Does it entail mom jeans and a visor?” Her brow was arched in that way that screamed _find me funny. I really am funny._ Clint did laugh a little bit because he found her hysterical. Everyone else was scared shitless, but when you listened, Natasha had a wicked sense of humor. You just had to not be terrified for long enough to focus. 

“If you want, sure. I meant like … go to a museum or a play. Walk around Central Park or go on a beer tour through Brooklyn. Just… find something new in a place you know so well.” Her eyes dropped to her work and Clint was grateful. “It’s stupid.” 

“No, it’s really not. It’s … vacation where you live. A change of perspective. I like it.” Natasha laid out the joints she’d been rolling for inspection. “We could go together,” she told him. “I pick a place, you pick a place?” Clint knew what was going on. He understood that this was her freaking out, reaching for help or connection. It wasn’t like he could fault her for it. 

“Yeah, starting tomorrow though. Today it’s TV, those,” he nodded to the meticulously rolled joints, “and the rest of that burrito.” 

“A man of simple tastes.” 

He walked over to the couch with the burrito and a six pack. “Bring a lighter when you come over.” He flipped on the TV and leaned back into the sofa, burrito on his lap. Natasha joined him a couple of minutes later, her laptop under one arm and a small plate with the joints and a lighter in the other hand. “You can start one if you want.” Clint found a special on hidden dangers in the Victorian home and left it on. “This chick’s really good. I saw this one once. Lots of lead, I think.” 

Natasha seemed amused by him and Clint gave her a little wink just as she began to inhale around the joint just to get her to cough. But it was Natasha. Of course she didn’t cough. She only raised one brow slowly as she drew in the first deep breath. Clint watched, holding her eyes as she held the breath. Clearly she felt it was a competition so she didn’t blink. He watched her hold onto the breath until smoke began to leak from her lips. “I’m not even stoned and you already look like a dragon.” She snorted, then coughed, handing the joint over as she laughed. Getting a laugh from her felt so damn good. 

By the time the first joint was finished, so was Clint’s burrito. They laid on the couch, Clint’s feet up on the coffee table, Natasha with her feet in his lap on a pillow. She was watching him out of the corner of her eye and Clint waited until she couldn’t contain herself, his lips either sealed or wrapped around a beer. “How many times have you had your nose broken?” 

It wasn’t what he thought she was going to ask, but it worked. “Two that I know of. I mean, told to me by doctors.” He inclined his bottle toward her, “but as someone once told me, I have a very punchable face.” Natasha flushed a little and picked up her own beer. She’d told him that after he really pissed her off one day. It was one of the things about her that endeared her to him in those early days. Stupid, but true. “Why? Catching my nose from a weird angle? Believe me, it wasn’t great before I broke it. At least I can still breathe well.” 

“It suits you.” Natasha wasn’t being mean, she was sincere. “A perfectly sculpted nose wouldn’t fit. That nose is Clint Barton’s nose.” She reached out to run her fingertip down the slope of it, feeling for bumps and imperfections. “I like it as it is.” As the edge of her finger ran down the bridge of his nose, it occurred to Clint that she must be truly stoned. It was cute on her. 

“It works.” Clint shrugged, his attention caught by a commercial featuring a very large sandwich. 

“I haven’t shown you the salve,” Natasha said all of a sudden, clambering up off the couch to go to the counter. She swayed just a little on her feet and Clint almost got up to follow her. Something about her posture said she needed a little distance, though. He wasn’t going to push her. “I make it for myself and have been meaning to give you some. We’re just never not at work.” 

“Apparently,” Clint said thinking about the last six hundred some days since he’d last been on vacation. “Is it illicit,” Clint joked as he leaned over to pick up another joint and light it. 

“No, just… mine.” The way her face quirked, he could tell she was trying to figure out if that made sense. “I have to watch what I say and do at work.” 

“And you don’t here,” Clint asked. 

“Do I?” Natasha stood there with the container of salve in her hands. 

“You’re an independent woman, Nat. You can do whatever the fuck you want whenever the fuck you want to.” Honestly he was surprised at how shy she seemed about that. 

“I can,” she agreed as she perched on the arm of the sofa, unscrewing the lid. “Sometimes… “ She drifted and Clint reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. She smiled a little and continued. “The Red Room, even SHIELD… they have so much of me. There are things I want to keep, things that are mine.” It made perfect sense to Clint who just nodded and let the tv go in the background. She reached up to take his hand, turning it over in both of hers before laying it against his thigh, palm up. “They taught me everything… but there are things I enjoy, things I pursued learning without prodding or direction.” 

Clint’s fingers twitched when Natasha gently picked up his hand in both of hers and began to massage. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen that coming a mile away, but the reality of her thumbs kneading the palm of his hand or her small fingers working down between his knuckles… well it was a lot for Clint who was trying really fucking hard to be a good friend. “Sometimes cooking is difficult,” that was an understatement if ever Clint had heard one. “But making medicines isn’t. It’s chemistry and they allowed me to learn chemistry.” It was the most open she’d been about her time as a Soviet spy outside of the initial days he’d spent with her. 

“So you found the loophole,” Clint asked. Natasha smiled down at him and he knew he’d gotten it right. “You’re the smartest person I know, so if anyone’s going to figure out how to give the Red Room the finger it’s you.” Her thumb dug across the pad of muscle under his thumb, making Clint’s toes curl against the hardwood. “How does that hurt and feel that good at the same time?” 

“Pressure point,” Natasha explained. “It’s releasing a spot in your back that’s overtaxed from drawing heavy bows.” 

“So medicine and massage.” 

“Among other things.” She stood up and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a chair. He’d passed her the joint and it currently hung between her lips, smoke curling off the end. “Get up.” Clint was confused as she took a deep drag, set the joint down, then pulled off Clint’s shirt. “Sit where you can see the TV.” She made him straddle the chair and Clint got the idea when she laid her hands on his back. “Tell me if I hurt you.” 

She put the remote in one hand and a beer in the other before Clint heard the zipper of her hoodie pull and saw the fabric flop onto the floor in a pool at his feet. Clint glanced behind to spot Natasha in a black tank top and jeans warming up a bit of the salve in her hands. “Hurt is relative.” 

“Just let me know if I break anything,” Natasha told him before flicking him in the back of the head hard so he’d turn. She’d rubbed out a cramp in his calf once and helped put his shoulder back into place, but this was a whole other level. Without him saying a word, she knew where to go. It occurred to him that Natasha would have done her research. She’d have come here knowing where he was hurt. He didn’t now if that was a comfort or creepy, but relationships were that a lot of the time. When does thoughtful turn to creepy or creepy turn to sweet? He didn’t get a lot of the whole human interaction thing, though. 

He made a guttural sound and she almost pulled back. “No… don’t stop,” he reached back and rested his hand on her hip. “Ah.” Natasha shifted her weight and Clint’s fingers tightened on her hip. She let out a little breath, her mouth quite close to his shoulder. Clint’s fingers flexed again when the muscle finally gave under the pressure. “Jesus Christ.” His fingers had found their way around her thigh, thumb on the inside, his other fingers digging in along her hamstring. She was wearing jeans, but he could feel the heat of her body through the denim. “I think I’ve had that knot for ten years and you just got it out.” 

Clint turned, finding Natasha breathless and flushed. “You could have come to me.” From the way she manhandled him back around, Clint got the feeling he was paying for something. Maybe she was finally getting him back for Bobbi in the storage closet. “Watch your show.” That was all she said as she went back to working on his back, shaking his grip from her leg. Natasha took an hour to slowly undo the knots and twists in his back. She worked around his sides to where muscle groups connected, making his skin thrum with blood flow into long clamped off muscles. She had him the human equivalent of putty. The show ended and Clint turned it to an episode of Battlestar Galactica he’d seen, setting the remote aside as he closed his eyes. 

Natasha had him somewhere around Cloud Nine by the time she was done. He knew how strong she was from matching her in the field but the way she could direct her strength was pretty astounding. “Is it alright if I work on your neck?” Overall Natasha had stayed away from working directly on Clint’s neck, knowing it to be sensitive from their last mission. He’d damn near been choked out. 

“Yeah. Still got some bruises.” Natasha made a noise that seemed to say she noticed. For all the strength she’d had working on the worst of his muscle knots, she took great care as she worked from where shoulders met neck to where skull met neck. She was careful, opening up space in long compacted muscles. He swore low, the amazing feeling of her fingers doing their magic coupled with a bit of beer and a bit of weed had him chatty. She worked her thumbs over the rise of his shoulders down to the top of his pecs. For a moment it felt like more than a massage technique but as soon as the feeling had come, it passed. 

Her fingers worked their way up into his hair, running them the wrong way and getting a little shudder out of Clint. Once she knew that she could get that reaction, it seemed Natasha was seeking them out. “Ticklish?” 

“Not a tickle,” Clint told her with a little groan. He noticed that she didn’t stop, thumbs and fingers rubbing the tension out of long, thin muscles that covered his skull. He could feel the heat of her behind him and it took every ounce of control he had left not to push himself into her. Her fingers ran down his stubble to his neck and Clint had to bite his bottom lip. Natasha’s nails ran down one cheek before he felt her pull away. Part of him was thanking God that he wasn’t going to embarrass himself. Another part, a more insistent part, was pissed that he wasn’t pushing the matter. 

“What’s this show about?” Natasha moved to the couch, a fine sheen of sweat on her chest and arms. “And you should drink a bunch of water.” Clint’s brows knotted. “Lactic acid. Or you’re going to be sore. Well, you’re going to be sore regardless.” He took a couple of minutes, sitting there as he had been because he really didn’t have an option given the state of his pants. She stretched out on the couch, groaning as she fidgeted her way into a comfortable position. “You never answered me. What’s the show about?” 

Clint explained, glad for something else to focus on. She was turned so that her back was arched a little. It was distracting. Everything about her was distracting. “The cylons have taken a human looking form and that fucks with everyone’s head.” Clint got up eventually, going into some of the spiritual overtones as he filled a glass with ice and then filled it with water. “I saw some of the old series, but I like this a lot better.” Clint came over to perch on the arm of the sofa. She only let that stand a minute or two before he was pulled down onto the couch so she could lay with her head on a pillow resting against his thigh. 

They smoked another joint while they watched the show, passing the water between them right along with the joint. The stuff was great but Clint had horrible cotton mouth. She asked dozens of questions as they watched and Clint was glad he’d already seen this episode. It turned out that there was a marathon on and they ended up watching it well into the night. She ordered them Indian food from her computer and then made him roll them a few more. It appeared she was going for broke tonight. Clint didn’t mind. He could babysit if that’s what she needed. 

By the time their very late dinner came, Natasha was clearly fried. He reached out to get her attention, stroking her hair back from her cheek on sheer impulse. She turned, looking up at him with a strange sort of doe-eyed feeling. She was biting her lip just a little and Clint felt that surge of energy that she got going in him. His fingers traced the shell of her ear and Natasha groaned, eyes fluttering shut. Her breath was light and fluttery up high in her chest as his fingers ran down the back of her neck. Neither of them said anything, neither of them really moved other than Clint’s fingers running down her throat and across her clavicle. He let them drop off at her shoulder, not really sure what had just happened other than that Natasha was flushed and his pulse was pounding. 

She got herself together first, asking about the spice level in his dish. They made light conversation as they watched another few episodes. “Why does she always wear red?” Natasha’s questions returned as she watched. He did notice that she sat closer now, not stopping herself from touching him to get his attention. Clint thought of it kind of in terms of allowing an abused animal to get familiar with you. It was little by little with Natasha, it always had been. She was still a stray coming in out of the cold on so many levels. It was after two in the morning before either of them moved, both watching TV and chatting as they relaxed. If Clint was totally honest, it was amazing. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in years. 

Natasha rolled onto her back so she was looking up at him, a soft little smile on her lips. “You have curry on your chin.” Clint tried to wipe it off, getting a little laugh from Natasha. “I think I need to sleep and that tomorrow morning we’re going out for a jog.” 

“Morning? Try afternoon, mid-afternoon if I can manage it. Remember, we’re on vacation.”


	6. Chapter 6

Clearly Natasha had a different understanding of mid-afternoon, coming into his bedroom with a steaming cup of coffee around ten a.m. It was clear that she’d been up for hours. Had she even slept? He’d left her on the couch the night before, curled up under the afghan. “I waited as long as I could stand,” she told Clint before climbing into bed with two mugs of coffee and managing not to spill a drop. “Wake up. I decided what we’re doing today.” It turned out that Natasha wanted to go on a walking tour of Revolutionary War Era New York. She’d found a few different tours but also had a map in case they decided to off road. 

“You had time to do all of this last night? While you were stoned?” Clint was inspecting her work, brow raised. 

“I sobered up pretty quickly once we stopped. It doesn’t usually linger with me.” She nodded to the coffee. “Your bodega had some nice french roast.” Clint inhaled and groaned in appreciation. “I didn’t want to chance it with your coffee maker.” Natasha was ashamed of her history in the kitchen, but she was owning it today. Or maybe it was just with him. Was it wrong that Clint wanted it to be just with him? 

“You went to the bodega, too? Aren’t you exhausted?” She deflected the question and it occurred to Clint for the first time that he’d only seen her fall asleep twice and those had been when she was beyond exhaustion. He supposed last night made three, though he was the first one to fall asleep. “Natasha,” he pushed gently. 

“I don’t sleep. Not a lot anyway. It’s never been a strong suit.” She faked a little smile. “I get quite a bit done.” The tension in her expression made Clint decide to give her some room. Instead of prodding on about her sleep habits, he asked about the places they’d be seeing. It turned out there were a few in Brooklyn she had her eye on. “When you’re done being lazy, there’s breakfast in the kitchen.” 

“Have I mentioned that I like it when you feed me?” 

“You have. Many times,” Natasha laughed. “Now get up. We’re burning daylight.”

By the time Clint had grabbed breakfast and a shower, Natasha had decided. They were going on a tour of historic battle grounds in Brooklyn. He gave her credit, actually. The topic was a weird one, but they’d get to spend the day outside and he didn’t have to go into Manhattan. That was a win-win for Clint. Most things people thought about in New York were in Midtown and Midtown was Clint’s idea of hell. He’d have done it but he was really grateful he didn’t have to. Of course he was getting drug all over Brooklyn, but that was cool. 

It was one of those beautiful fall days that meant he could be a little warm in the sun but might need a hoodie when it got darker. The leaves were turning, too. Clint loved the fall and happily indulged in it when he was given half a chance. “What?” Clint looked up to see Natasha staring at him. 

“… nothing,” she shook her head and turned to read the inscription on the monument behind her. Green-Wood Cemetery had a nice monument to the men who’d fallen here and she took particular interest in it which made Clint wonder what was going on. 

“Come on.” Clint slipped in next to her. 

“… look at the view,” she nodded to the stunning view of the New York skyline. 

“Yeah?” 

“I was looking at the view,” she pointed out. 

“… you weren’t,” Clint countered, raising his brow as he shifted aside, slipping in behind Natasha as a family with two too many kids passed by. Clint had put his hand on her hip without thinking and felt her body tense. “What were you looking at,” Clint asked softly, his breath stirring a curl near her ear. 

“You.” Natasha stood very still and Clint felt almost predatory in this position. She probably let a lot of men think that before she snapped their necks with her thighs. “The sun was coming in behind you and your hair was lit up.” Clint felt her hand flutter over his where it sat on her hip. He decided to press his advantage mostly because he could see her pulse bouncing in her throat. “Clint,” she breathed softly as he pressed in, his chest to her back. A soft tremor went through her and Clint had the distinct urge to desecrate some graves. 

“I’m going to ask you this once,” Clint said softly, his hand squeezing her hip. “Whatever you say, I’m going to believe you. Natasha,” Clint asked as he turned her slowly to look at him, “are you being real? Is this you, sincerely?” He cupped her cheek in his palm, fingers sliding into her hair. “Don’t fuck with me.” 

She looked at him, not blinking, not saying anything for a long time. “… I think so.” It was quiet. Clint recognized it as probably the most honest answer a woman like Natasha could give him. She swallowed then lifted onto the balls of her feet, raising up a few inches so she could bring their lips together. It was soft, almost like sealing a promise, and Clint let her direct things. 

She pulled back and turned to the monument, talking about how this place had the best view in the five Burroughs that wasn’t man made. Other than her slipping her hand into his, nothing would have signaled that they’d talked or had that kiss. She just moved on, but did so holding Clint’s hand. 

They visited three more battle grounds, riding the bus. It left them pushed up against each other during rush hour when they were trying to get to the last site before sundown. The bus was packed and they’d carved out a little corner for themselves opposite the door, having to stand where they’d load a person in a wheelchair. Natasha was pressed between the glass and Clint’s chest while a very tall man was sort of wedged in against Clint’s shoulder. It was generally uncomfortable and in his effort to get away from the guy with the really pointy elbows, Clint stepped more and more into Natasha’s space. She was amused, pressing herself up against him in an effort to pit him against his urge to get away from the pointy elbowed gentlemen 

Natasha wasn’t protesting and was even teasing him, but she wasn’t being overly pushy about it. Her hand had gone to his hip to brace herself, but he couldn’t help but notice that her thumb had found its way under Clint’s shirt and was currently stroking over his hip bone. She was looking out the window, still touching him. She leaned in, her cheek turning to rest against his shoulder. Clint got the message and moved in, wrapping his arms around her as she did the same. It wasn’t necessarily sexual, but it was incredibly intimate. He could smell his own shampoo in her hair all mixed up with the scents of today and that little sweat smell she got when she’d gotten warm and cooled a bunch of times. It wasn’t bad, just very much her own. 

Her hair was incredibly soft when he brushed a curl behind her ear. Natasha was devastatingly beautiful, the kind of girl who stopped traffic. He felt his heartbeat speed thinking about how good it felt to hold onto her. A moment later, she looked up at him with those soft green eyes, a little smile on her lips. Clint tilted her chin up just a touch more, his thumb tracing the little upside down smile over her chin then right down her jaw line. She shifted a little, turning her face so that her lips brushed his calloused palm. Her eyes drifted shut as she laid her head in his hand, giving up so much in just that little gesture of trust. 

Clint could feel that she was fighting herself on this, that something was making her go very slow. He didn’t understand and while right now wasn’t the time to ask, he would later. Right now Clint was just going to enjoy the hell out of having her close. He didn’t even bother trying to hide the fact that she had gotten him more than a little revved up. His cock had filled out enough to be noticeable if you were say pressed up against him in a crowded space. It wasn’t as though Clint was going to push this, at least not now, but he _was_ going to enjoy the hell out of holding her close. Maybe a few minutes alone when they finally got home would be necessary, but he was a big boy. He could rub one out so he kept his mind clear.


	7. Chapter 7

That night they went for sushi and karaoke. Clint sang older rock and Natasha newer pop, but they both agreed on a lot of sake. By the time they were in the cab on the way home, Natasha was wasted. Clint wasn’t far behind either, so as she climbed into his lap, Clint didn’t stop her or even really pause himself. His hands just went to her waist as she leaned in to kiss him. Clint could taste wasabi and sake as they kissed, Natasha’s tongue not shy in the least. Her hand sunk into his hair as her lips migrated to his jaw. 

“Fuck… Tasha,” she ran her teeth down his throat. Her gestures were a little slower than usual, almost languid as her hands moved up under his shirt. The cab driver didn’t seem to mind the show and since they had a good twenty minutes, Clint honestly didn’t care as long as he got to keep touching her. Her mouth ran over his throat, then up the line of his jaw to his mouth. She brought his hand to her breast, encouraging Clint to do just what he’d been contemplating. She moaned softly into the kiss, a sort of breathy sigh filling the space between them. 

She leaned in, sucking Clint’s earlobe. Natasha had clearly noted how sensitive Clint’s ears were and was exploiting that as her hand reached between Clint’s thighs. He groaned as her hand massaged, getting him filled out in a matter of minutes. Her lips worked the shell of his ear, her breath tickling as it rustled his hair. Clint continued to touch her, his hand long since having slid up under her shirt. She was rocking against him as they necked, moaning softly into his throat. The cabbie turned the radio up just a little bit and Clint was grateful. It meant he didn’t have to restrain himself quite as much.

Natasha took advantage of the noise to unzip his jeans, insinuating her hand into his boxers. She kissed him hard and started stroking, pulling obscene noises from Clint as he fumbled to undo the clasp on her bra. He managed and was able to touch her breasts for real, flesh and blood with beautiful nipples that felt lovely when he rolled them between his thumb and fingers. She’d moan for him and falter a little, but he didn’t, moving her so she straddled one thigh, a hand going to her ass to encourage her to move. She caught what must have been a pleasing rhythm because he felt her thighs start to clench more as the heat between her legs grew through the denim that covered his thigh. 

Clint came in his boxers about a block away from home and had Natasha breathy and groaning for him by the time the cab stopped in front of Clint’s building. He did up his pants as she climbed out of his lap and straightened herself out a little bit. Clint tipped the cabbie as he watched Natasha head for the stairs. She looked back over her shoulder at him, meeting his gaze for a good few seconds before disappearing into the building. “You’re a lucky guy,” the cabbie told Clint as he offered his hand for a fist bump. Clint returned it because, really, the cabbie was right. That was a fist-bump worthy moment. 

He followed Natasha inside, finding that she’d left the door open for him. He found that she’d also left a trail of clothing leading to the fridge where she stood in nothing but her panties, rummaging around for a drink. Clint had always known Natasha’s breasts were nice, but seeing them uncovered was a whole other thing. Civilizations rose and fell over breasts like those. She turned, looking him right in the eye as she opened a beer and drank. Clint was dry mouthed and couldn’t stop staring as her lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle. 

“Want a sip?” Natasha angled the neck of the bottle toward him and Clint walked over, hypnotized. He took the bottle from her, but instead of drinking, he set it aside in favor of tasting the beer on her lips. Natasha pressed against him, one arm wrapping around his neck as he picked her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, usually a dangerous position to be in. This time it was bliss because he could feel how hot and wet she was through her panties. Clint’s hand gripped her ass, pulling at the fabric until it was taut between her folds. Natasha moaned for him and Clint used the noises she made as his guide. 

When he had her panting against his chest, Clint set her down on the edge of the kitchen table, dropping to his knees in front of her. Natasha lifted her ass for him as Clint pulled the only thing hiding any bit of her off, tossing them on the ground before turning to press his lips to Natasha’s thigh. This might be drunken, but Clint already knew it wasn’t just fucking. If it was, his heart wouldn’t be pounding in his chest like it was just sex. Clint kept thinking he was in control then she’d run her fingers through his hair and he’d be lost again. Normal sex wasn’t like that for Clint. He didn’t give a shit what they called this or if it was just vacation-related fornication, Clint was going to enjoy every second of it. 

Clint’s mouth went to work, coupling with his fingers to get Natasha crying out his name and pulling at the cabinet hard enough to make the hinges groan. Her heels dug into his back as he held on, Clint’s arms wrapped around her thighs so she couldn’t move away. And Natasha moved. She moved a lot. Once Clint got her in a good place, Natasha started crying out for him in a guttural tone that sounded almost like she was on the edge of too much. Clint doubled down, moving one arm so that his fingers had better access. Her eyes snapped open the second his fingertip touched her opening. Natasha’s body went tense and not in a good way. He saw her eyes dilate and her jaw clench. He immediately pulled back, hoping he hadn’t just fucked up. 

She said nothing, just let him go back to using his mouth and fingers and staying away from her entrance. She came for him a few minutes later, gripping at his hair as Clint worked his jaw. “Please… Clint….” He understood her intent and brought her over a second time, watching her collapse into a panting pile of jellied muscles on his kitchen table. Clint gave her a moment, kissing her thighs as he stroked low on her stomach. She’d shudder every now and again, her fingers stroking his cheeks or down the back of his neck. Clint wasn’t surprised that Natasha let him pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, what he was surprised about was how she clung to him a little too tightly. 

Clint didn’t dare ask about what had just happened, knowing she could be skittish. Seeing her laying bare in his bed was something Clint took a moment to stand and appreciate, a dumb little smile on his lips. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” His hand ran down her hip to her knee then back up. “I didn’t expect anything like this tonight,” he told her as his fingers stroked over her hair. “But I’m glad it did.” Clint leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I’m going to grab us some water.” 

As he was walking away, feeling a little tightness from his drying seed across the front of his jeans, he also felt her hand wrap around his wrist. “Thank you for not stopping.” Clint knew exactly what she meant. 

“I would never push you into anything you don’t want, Tasha.” 

“I know.” Her voice welled with sincerity and Clint was surprised when she brought his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles then pressing them to her cheek as her eyes closed. “I trust you.” Clint would normally have felt the weight of that statement, the weight of knowing how much he could disappoint someone who trusted him given what he did. With Natasha, she knew what he was and still trusted him. 

“I know what that means.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead before heading to the kitchen, knowing they both needed a second. It was a line they’d crossed, something that they couldn’t take back, though Clint wouldn’t ever consider taking that back. Plus, it had been her that started it. Still, Clint was haunted by the way she’d frozen when his finger dared press in. He could only imagine the horrors she’d faced as a child and young woman. They were sure to have left their scars and right now Clint wanted to kick in the faces of anyone who’d left Natasha so worried about a finger. 

When he came back, she was gone and Clint’s heart started to thunder. He saw a moment later that the window was open and she was standing on the fire escape in a pair of his boxers and a hoodie. Clint climbed out after her, offering up the water. “It’s a nice view,” she told him as she cracked the lid on her water. He smiled a little and opened his water, taking a long pull. “… You’re really good at that,” she told him. 

“Thanks,” Clint grinned and ran his hand down her back. “I enjoy my work and I think it shows.” 

She smiled a little and leaned into him, taking a deep breath. She was winding up to something and Clint kept his mouth shut, wrapping one arm around her waist. “That was the first time in a very long time that I have wanted a man to touch me.” She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze set on the horizon. Clint stayed quiet, just giving her a nod to say he was hearing her. “I… struggle with it. When it’s work, that’s fine. I can tuck it away.” 

“It,” Clint asked softly. 

“… disgust… fear,” she told him softly. Clint turned and kissed her temple. She was confirming all the things he had worried over. “I haven’t cum for a man since I was 17.” Clint swallowed thickly, finding the responsibility of being the one she’d opened up weighing quite heavily on his shoulders. He’d bear it for her, would do anything for Natasha, but he just hoped he was worthy of her trust. “I… I struggle.” He could feel the tension in her body and pulled her in tight. Clint wondered if he’d have gotten her honesty and openness if she weren’t six sheets to the wind, but it didn’t matter because it wasn’t about what should have happened, it was about what was happening. 

“I’d say I was honored, but that comes across weird. Just… thank you for trusting me.” He squeezed her. “You know I love you, Nat. Whatever you need, I will always be here for you.” Clint felt her grip him tighter, squeezing almost hard enough to take his breath away. Some people might call it a hug, but Clint recognized it for what it was. This was Natasha holding on for dear life.


	8. Chapter 8

Clint woke up with Natasha’s head resting on his chest. She was asleep, deep asleep with her hand resting just over his hip. Her thigh rested on his, her calf wrapped around his so that the arch of her foot rested on his shin. He’d wrapped his arms around her, one across her back, the other resting crossed with hers across his stomach. Clint was no stranger to sharing a bed, but he’d always been the guy who woke up squished onto the very edge because he’d tried to get away from this situation. Clint wasn’t usually a snuggler. He wasn’t a lot of things until Natasha was around, though. 

She must have sensed him shifting and started to wake. Clint’s hand went to her hair, stroking it gently as he turned his lips to kiss her forehead. “It’s still early. Rest.” She looked up at him sleepily before she settled back in. Clint watched her sleep for a little while, his fingers stroking over her hair so he could watch her turn her face into the touch just a little bit. He found himself fascinated by the way her lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks. Her body moved just a little now and then as she dreamed, and every time she looked a little tense, Clint would stroke his fingers down her hair or over her cheek and Natasha would relax. 

It went like that for a little while before Clint let himself drift back to sleep. He woke to Natasha swearing and opened his eyes fast. “It’s almost two,” Natasha told him. 

“… ok,” Clint asked wondering why that was a problem. 

“I haven’t slept this late in my life.” She looked almost panicked and Clint reached out to pull her back to bed, turning her so she was facing him. 

“So I got to witness a Natasha first,” Clint asked with wide eyes and a smile. He was teasing her a little, but mostly he just wanted to get her to smile. “I’m honored.” 

“You should be.” She poked him in the stomach and wrapped her arm around his waist, slotting herself in against him. “I don’t laze around for just anyone.” 

“You needed the rest,” Clint told her. “Besides, you looked sweet.” 

“You watched,” Natasha asked, sort of surprised and interested. 

“For a little while. I woke up with you stuck to me like an octopus,” Clint pointed out. “Had to do something while I tried to fall back asleep.” Really, if Natasha needed it, Clint would guard her sleep anytime. “Were you dreaming?” 

“… did I say something?” 

“No.” Clint tucked that away that Natasha had clearly talked in her sleep at some point. There was a fear in her eyes that Clint hurt just seeing. “No, not at all. You were just twitchy.” 

“… ok.” The relief was palpable and Clint couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to make that fear so acute. “I’m sorry I woke you.” 

“I’m not,” Clint told her without hesitation. “You fell right back asleep when I started petting your hair.” He ran his fingers through the auburn strands in demonstration, watching a smile gather in the corner of her mouth. “You remember anything you want to talk about?” Natasha smiled a little then turned to kiss his forearm. She said nothing. Clint pulled her a little tighter, squeezing her then just holding on until her stomach made a growl that was truly enormous. “I will take that as my cue to feed you.” 

“You would be reading that cue correctly.” She didn’t let go for a few more minutes, though. Clint appreciated the closeness she was allowing him. He worried it might evaporate if they got out of bed, so a few extra minutes was more than welcome. Her stomach growled again, though and he just turned to kiss her temple and sat up. “I’ll meet you in there in a couple of minutes,” Natasha told him as Clint headed out the door in a pair of purple boxers and an old Cure t-shirt. 

Clint had no idea what he actually had in the fridge and figured he’d be taking her out to eat. Instead, he opened the door to the fridge to find it not only fully stocked but spotless. And organized. This must have been part of what she was up to the day she was up earlier than him. “Nice.” He pulled out some orange juice and the butter before he decided fully on what he was doing. They would go with anything breakfast like. And that was what Clint was cooking. Mostly it was because that was what he _could_ cook. Partly it was because he knew Natasha liked waffles and Clint could make those. 

Coulson had made them waffles one morning in the mess and once after a shitty mission Clint realized how easy they were he picked a used waffle maker up at the thrift shop and started experimenting. From there, Clint had perfected a few breakfast foods. He wasn’t a great chef or anything, but he could put together a lot from what Natasha had bought for them. He searched the cabinets and found the waffle mix, a homemade batch of white powder that anyone could easily mistake for a lot of drugs. Instead it was a delicious mix of a very secret recipe. 

Clint turned on the radio, a weird little oil rig shaped thing he’d cobbled together. It was a side hobby and something there was evidence of on more than a few surfaces in his place. Acetylene torches could get away from you. He found a station that played a mix of pop and rock, something Clint could stand that Natasha might like too. “Hey.” Natasha walked in wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his boxer briefs. “Britney Spears,” Natasha winced as she walked across the kitchen and started to screw with his radio. Clint nearly stopped her but realized at once that she understood how to work it. The thought excited him. It was another one of those weird things they had in common, another thing for them to talk about and geek out over on 16 hour plane trips. “There.” She’d changed it to an oldies station, surprising Clint altogether at her choice. 

“I have to say,” Clint nodded at Natasha’s choice of attire, “Your ass fills those out far better than mine ever did.” 

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Yeah. Maybe I should go shopping and grab a change of clothes.” 

“I don’t mind,” Clint told her. “If you want, you can wear my stuff.” It was kind of hot to him. “Though we might have to do laundry soon. I only have so many pairs of boxers.” He winked at her and Natasha flushed a little, poking at a log of goat cheese. “Frittata,” Clint told her. “Feel free to veto anything you want,” he told her as he chopped away at some green onions. “You set us up for a great meal,” Clint told her. “Hey, toss me the mushrooms.” The oil is almost ready and they can go in. 

“I can do it,” she told him as she took the container of mushrooms to the sink. He watched for a moment as she started to methodically clean them with a damp paper towel, careful not to damage so much as a fin. “Thick or thin,” she asked, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. Clint was taken by the gesture and realized only when she stuck her tongue out at him that he’d been staring. “Do you want the mushrooms sliced thick or thin?” 

“Thick,” he told her, annoyed at the way his own flush took over his body. Clint refocused on his chopping, considering the tomatoes in the bowl on the counter. Where had he gotten that bowl? Maybe it was in the apartment when he got here. “Do you like tomato?” 

“So tomato, mushroom, green onion, and goat cheese?” Clint nodded. “That sounds good. How do you want the tomatoes chopped?” She’d just finished with the mushroom and came over to slide them from the cutting board into the oil. “All I really needed was coffee,” Natasha pointed out as she took the tomatoes to the sink and gave them a wash. 

“Your stomach sounded like it was going to gnaw through your abs.” Natasha gave him a look before turning back to the tomatoes. “Did you have the groceries delivered?” Natasha nodded. “Nice.” Clint was appreciative that he didn’t have to shop and had good food he could actually cook. “You didn’t have to.” 

“The fridge had a six pack, half a sandwich, a box of take out that had sealed itself shut with mold and two canisters of film. And we’re not even going to discuss what I cleaned out of your freezer.” Natasha’s brow arched high. Clint put up his hands in surrender and she dropped the brow. “Plus, I’m staying here. The least I could do is get you some groceries.” 

“I’m just saying… you could stay even if you didn’t bring me groceries and find a bowl to put produce in. Where _did_ you find this?” Clint tapped the green patterned bowl that had to be 50 years old. 

“Your storage space.” 

“… my storage space?” Clint was genuinely confused. 

“Yes, you have a storage space in the basement.” 

“No I don’t.” Clint shook his head. 

“… it had your apartment number on it,” Natasha told him.    
“It might have, but that’s not my stuff.” Clint snorted. “I rent it out to a neighbor. Nancy’s got her own lock on it.” Natasha gave him a glare as though challenging what lock in the world could keep her out. It was a fair point. “You stole me a bowl. That was sweet.” 

“You … “ Natasha pursed her lips and turned back to her chopping. “I’ll return it after we eat.” 

“Oh no… you can’t return to the scene of the crime,” Clint joked as he came closer to grab the eggs from the fridge. Natasha flicked a piece of tomato onto his cheek but Clint kept grinning. He was keeping the bowl. Nancy was a month late rent anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

Clint hadn’t known that climbing in Central Park actually had a name. He and Natasha had spent the hours since they ate in Central Park bouldering. Apparently that was the name for the short climbs that they were doing. There were people here that were pretty hardcore with rock climbing shoes and water bottles on their belts, but Clint had decided they should do this while he and Natasha walked through the park so they were doing the best they could. “Hand,” Clint asked her as he watched Natasha struggle for the handhold. She didn’t take his hand, shaking her head before she went for the handhold one more time and got it. 

He’d decided that they should go to Central Park because it was a beautiful day and they would be outside. Both he and Natasha preferred to be outside in weather like this, plus he’d been feeling a little out of shape considering how little he’d been doing and how much he’d been eating since they’d been put on enforced vacation. Today they had already been bouldering for a couple of hours and Clint fully intended to take her on a paddle boat ride later. The place was supposed to close at 6 tonight, but was open late because of some event happening at the park. Clint didn’t care what the event was, just that the boats were there to rent until midnight. 

Natasha made it to the top of the boulder and came to stand next to him as they looked out on the park. “I ought to push you off for offering me a hand. Really?” Her finger jabbed him in the back as she clucked her tongue ruefully. “Come on. I hear there’s an enormous one by 110th street.” It would be a hike, but Clint didn’t care. That was what he was here for. “And there’s a shop up there I can grab a change of clothes in.” Clearly Natasha had something in mind, so Clint followed her lead. They climbed across a few more boulders before they got down, Clint very intentionally reaching up to grab Natasha and bring her down from the last boulder. Contrary to her earlier threats, Natasha wrapped her arms around him and accepted the help, standing close after and slipping her arms around his waist after her feet touched the ground. 

“You want to walk or grab a pedicab,” Clint asked. 

Natasha was leaning into him, just standing there in a loose embrace as she considered her options. Clint’s hand ran down her hair then her back. She sighed a little. “Pedicab.” Clint didn’t think it was that Natasha was tired, more that she wanted to be close and maybe a little quiet. Sometimes he could feel the need for peace descend over her. Before this little vacation he’d normally just give her some space. Now all he wanted to do was sit in the back of the pedicab with her in his arms. 

They had to walk to one of the park roads to catch it, but once they were there, Clint got them a ride quickly. He let Natasha climb in first, sitting on the squeaky fake leather seat next to her. The car wasn’t very deep, so Clint had to sit on a little bit of an angle to be comfortable. That seemed just fine to Natasha because she could pull her legs up on the seat to stretch out a little while she rested her head on Clint’s chest. He welcomed her in, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Hope I don’t smell too bad.” 

Natasha turned her head and gave him a deep sniff. “Not _too_ bad.” Clint couldn’t help but notice that a few moments later she turned her face back into his chest and took another deep sniff. Clint took that as a compliment and just settled in with her. They were relatively quiet for most of the ride until Natasha started shivering. 

“The breeze is picking up,” Clint mentioned as he sat up a little, tugging at his sleeve and pulling off his jacket. He held it up for her to put her arms into. “I’m not cold,” he told her when she went to refuse. “Really.” Clint took her hand and brought it to his face. Clint was warm enough. 

“Thanks.” Clint slid the jacket up Natasha’s arms, letting her deal with buttoning if she wanted. There was a fine line between being a gentleman and treating her like a five year old. She leaned back into him, her hands tucked up in the sleeves. “I’ll get a jacket at the store,” she promised. Clint honestly didn’t care but she seemed really intent on it so he just nodded. Clint’s fingers brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, getting a little smile from her. “I’ll be quick at the store,” she told him. “I think there’s a bar a few doors down if you want to get a drink while I shop.” 

“Either way,” Clint told her. Natasha shifted her arm, sliding her fingers across his palm until their fingers laced together. The sun was starting to set as they made it to their destination. Clint paid the man as Natasha stood next to the cab with her face turned up into the fading sun. The beams made the copper in her hair stand out and Clint just smiled dumbly before tipping the driver a little extra just because he hadn’t bothered talking to them. 

She walked them out of the park and down two blocks to a shop with a few dresses in the window. Like she’d promised, there was a bar nearby. Clint took the hint and headed that way with the intention of giving her a little space. When she walked into the bar twenty minutes later, Clint was glad he had. She was wearing his jacket and carrying two bags, but as she came to the table, he could see that she’d changed. Clint stood, finding himself almost compelled to his feet by the sight of her. “Here,” Clint met her halfway across the bar, holding his hand out for the bags. He didn’t _have_ to do it, and in fact it could have been dangerous to offer since she could be so desperate to show her independence. Instead she handed over the bags and stepped in front of him to head to the table. 

“Do they have anything interesting on tap,” Natasha asked as she slid out of his jacket. She turned to catch his gaze, looking over her shoulder. Clint came up short, blinking as he stared at her in a purple sweater dress that hugged every curve. He just stared until she gave him a little whistle to get his attention. “You like it?” 

“I do,” Clint agreed as he set the bags down and reached out. His fingers ran along the edge of the wide belt that hugged her waist. It just accentuated her figure even more and Clint wondered if she’d let him explore those curves with his mouth a little later. “I guess we’re done climbing?” 

“We’re done climbing,” Natasha agreed. She ignored the chair he pulled out for her and slid into the booth side of the table next to his beer. “Irish coffee,” Natasha told the waitress as she approached. “Double strong and another beer for him.” She patted the seat next to her, giving him a little smile. “So shy?” 

“Just… you look amazing,” he told her plainly. “And I’m not working with all the blood flow going to my brain.” Clint sat next to her, feeling grubby in comparison. She slid close, pressing her thigh to his. “You look great, Nat. Really.” Clint reached over to touch her arm and she turned her hand over to take his and lace their fingers together. 

“… you’ve been patient. And you’ve been kind. You don’t ask too much.” Clint felt strange listening to her say these things about him. “I’m lucky.” She brought his knuckles to her lips, kissing them then resting the back of his hand against her chest. “You’re a good man, Clint Barton.” 

“You know that’s not true,” Clint told her quietly. 

“Well you’re good to me and that matters. That counts.” She kissed his knuckles again before letting his hand go. Her coffee and his beer were on their way and gave the two of them something to focus on other than Natasha’s emotional state. They were both relieved in that. Conversation turned to what she’d gotten and Natasha rolled her eyes. “You don’t care what I bought.”

“… I care that you buy things that look good on you. And you usually do” 

“Usually,” Natasha shot back with a glare. 

“You know that yellow tank top you have?” 

“You don’t like it,” she looked more amused than annoyed. 

“It makes you look jaundiced.” Clint took a pull on his beer, secretly longing for the days you could smoke in bars. It wasn’t like he’d done it often, he had to keep his lungs in good shape, but sometimes a smoke and a beer were really good. “I do like you in purple, though.”

“I know,” Natasha winked. She sipped at her coffee, sitting back and crossing her legs under the table. “You think he’s going to break up with her?” She’d slid into a game they played, reading the room while they caught a little buzz. Clint played along and they created a backstory based on just what they observed, telling people’s stories as they drank. 

When Clint was a couple of beers in and Natasha had had a second coffee, they hit the streets again. The world was a little shinier around the edges. He appreciated that as she slid in next to him, blurring the edges a little more because he could only focus on her warmth leeching its way through his jacket. They walked around until they found a little twenty seat cafe that had all kinds of specials written on the chalk board outside. The only thing Clint had cared about was that there was steak and he was down for it. 

It was a little more upscale than a place Clint would usually go, but Natasha seemed interested so he’d gone along. It turned out the food was great. “Are you going to finish that?” Clint looked up to see that Natasha was pointing to his sweet potato fries. 

“… how about this,” he waved the waitress over and ordered an extra plate of the fries. “Think we earned it climbing boulders,” he told her. 

“I just wanted one.”

“No you didn’t,” Clint told her.

“… no I didn’t.” She smiled a little, the toe of her shoe running along his calf. “How do you know me so well?”

“I pay attention,” Clint told her before snagging his beer. 

“… you really do.” She knew it. She knew that he focused on her, that he could read between her lines. Like right now, her hand was resting on her knee, palm up. Clint knew that meant she wanted to hold his hand but wasn’t sure. His fingers slid across her palm before he laced their fingers together. Clint saw her blink away a little moisture and decided to let it go in favor of kissing the back of her hand. Sometimes he needed to push her to talk, but right now wasn’t one of those times. Clint was rewarded when Natasha leaned over to kiss his cheek, quick and light, but something that lit him up from the inside out.


	10. Chapter 10

Clint took her on the swan boats later that night, wrapping his jacket around her though she had her own. Natasha liked that. It was a kind of old fashioned gesture coupled with a little ownership. “Want to walk a little,” Natasha asked him after their paddle boat ride. 

“Sure,” he nodded at her feet, currently in heels. “You want to switch shoes?” 

Natasha looked down at her heels. “They’re fine.” It was nice of him to ask. Clint thought of little things like that. Clint cared about her wellbeing. That was why Natasha could be so open with him. Clint genuinely wanted her to be happy. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her in against him. They walked quietly for awhile before Clint started to hum a little. She listened, leaning her head against his shoulder to pick up more of his humming. That didn’t mean she didn’t notice the three guys following them. From the way she felt Clint shifting and going for his baton, he had clearly noticed as well. 

The conversation behind them started mild but built into some really dirty stuff. She could feel Clint tense, but he was biding his time. He was also giving the guys a chance to not get their asses kicked. The moment they actually tried to engage Natasha in conversation was when Clint turned around. “You don’t have to,” she told him softly. 

“Nah, they need to learn how to speak to a lady.” The guys were being obnoxious, grabbing themselves and issuing challenges. Clint wasn’t speaking to them, more focused on her as the punks worked each other up into a frenzy. “Want to time me?” The first guy came over with his fists raised and Clint just side stepped, letting the follow throw the man had put behind the punch pull him off balance. Then he both stuck his foot out and gave him a shove in the middle of the back that propelled him head-first into a lamp post. 

“HEY. What are you doing, man? Now you’re really going to get your ass kicked and your girl… we’ll take turns.” Natasha could have easily taken the guys, but Clint seemed to take a special joy in fucking up pigs. And boy did he that night. She had money on three wired jaws, a dozen broken ribs, and a lot of blood in their piss. 

Clint stood up, wiping his baton off on one of the guy’s shirts before putting his foot right in the middle of the man’s chest. Clint leaned down, getting quite close and putting a lot of pressure. “Got anything to say to the lady?” 

“Sorry.. Sorry!” It didn’t actually sound like sorry through the broken jaw, but Natasha nodded, accepting the apology. 

Clint slid in next to her, collapsing his baton and slipping it back into his pocket. “How long?” 

“Two minutes, thirty six seconds. You’ve taken out three guys faster.” 

“Yeah, but those pricks deserved a little extra attention,” Clint pointed out. “Oh…” He reached in his pocket, pulling out three wallets, “I got something for you.” 

Natasha smiled. With the men’s wallets, she could make their lives a living hell for awhile. “Awwww. That’s sweet. So much better than flowers.” She leaned in and kissed Clint’s cheek, sliding her arm around his waist and holding in close. Natasha watched as Clint pulled all the cash out of the wallets while they walked, taking time to hand it out to a couple of homeless people settling in for the night in the park. There was something inherently kind about Clint, something that she found tender and moments like this proved it. Not only had he defended her honor, he’d given the spoils to people who really needed it. 

They caught a cab at the edge of the park and it only took a moment for Natasha to settle in against Clint. He welcomed her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and rubbing his wide hand up and down her bicep in an effort to warm her. “I didn’t know it was going to be this cold out. You ok or do you want to stop for coffee?” 

“I’m ok, but you’re making coffee when we get home.” Her fingers ran over the top of his thigh, squeezing a little through his jeans as they bumped through late night traffic. It was a long ride and Natasha was surprised when she heard Clint quietly snore. Being that she hadn’t been talking and that it was actually pretty late, she cut him some slack and shifted until he was resting comfortably against her. She stroked her fingers through his hair, watching the route the cabbie was taking as she thought about how trusted she was that Clint would drift off in a cab. Either that or he was exhausted, but Natasha was going to stick with the thing that made her feel better. 

Clint actually wound up getting a full twenty minutes of rest before they got back to Brooklyn and Natasha found it irritating how bright eyed he seemed after so short a period of sleep. The irritation dropped when they got out of the cab, Clint offering her his hand out of the car. It was a simple gesture, but Natasha took his hand, standing as she laced their fingers and closed the door behind her. “You want the stuff we have upstairs or do you want to take a short walk to the corner?” There was an all night coffee place she found her first night staying here. It was actually pretty good, so Natasha agreed. Plus, she hadn’t let Clint’s hand go and he hadn’t taken it back. He kept her close, not really talking. Clint knew when to talk and he knew when to keep his mouth shut. Most of the time. 

He held the door for her and Natasha kissed his cheek as she walked past just so he’d be blushing by the time he got to the counter. And he was, beautifully in fact. “So they also have really good crepes.” Natasha snorted a little. “I know, I know… I’m always hungry.” 

“It’s a thing,” Natasha agreed. 

“So?” He looked a little like a kid, excited and hopeful. 

“Crepes it is.”


	11. Chapter 11

Clint watched as Natasha walked toward the hall, the sun pouring in through the crappy blinds bending around her curves. They’d come back and fallen asleep in bed, staying that way until Natasha climbed out of bed. She came back in quietly, a bottle of water in her hand. “Oh… I didn’t mean to wake you,” Natasha told him quietly. “Go back to sleep.” 

Clint shook his head. “Nope. Can’t do it,” Clint told her with an extended hand. “You woke me up, now you have to pay a price.” Natasha was game, he liked just how open she’d become with him, her expression actually unguarded and sincere as she rolled her eyes and climbed into bed, kneeling in front of him. 

She stayed quiet for a long time, but Clint knew this game. He held her gaze, watching as her brow rose and fell. He kept his straight face but crossed his eyes, knowing it would get her to smirk at the very least. She did more than smirk, she laughed a little and leaned forward to kiss him. “What’s the price I have to pay,” Natasha asked dubiously. 

“I think you should clean the bathroom,” Clint told her after some careful thinking. The suggestion got him poked in the side nice and hard. “Ow.” He rubbed, exaggerating the moment with a lip that stuck out and quivered. She rolled her eyes and he decided to make his real request. “I want you to take off your … my boxers and my t-shirt and lay on your back for me.” Natasha tensed. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought of laying you out on my bed and burying my face between your legs?” She relaxed somewhat and while Clint was grateful she had relaxed, that she was worried he’d do anything she didn’t want hurt. 

“You were always so careful, so… partner-ish.” 

“Before you’re anything else, you’re my partner.” Clint rolled up onto an elbow to look at her more straight on. “And that means that I’ll have your back no matter what. That’s always going to be first. We both know that words are bullshit most of the time, though, so think about my actions.” He hoped that she would agree that Clint really did act with her best interest at heart. It took her a moment, but her hands eventually went to the hem of the t-shirt. She pulled it off, watching him watch her body. Clint wasn’t immune, nor would he ever want to be, because Natasha was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at those.” 

“These,” Natasha ran her hands over her breasts, taking a moment to give him a little show. She pressed them together, ran her nails down the slope, and even paid a little attention to her nipples, getting them hard. Maybe she was buying time, but man was it a sexy way to do that. Clint shifted a little, brow up to see if it was ok with her. She gave him a little nod and Clint slid from the bed, walking straight over to her. “Just couldn't stay put? Impatient as always.” Clint’s arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled Natasha in tight, kissing her shoulder then up the column of her neck. Clint took his time, kissing and nipping everywhere but her lips with one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, the other ending with his hand sunk in her hair. 

Clint could feel her relax for him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him even closer. Clint felt her shift and instinctively moved one arm under her, groaning when her legs wrapped around his waist, those same arms holding tight around his neck. He held her there for quite some time, pressing her back into the wall as his lips continued to tease, moving to her breasts and getting an annoyed _finally_ from Natasha. “Why are you in such a rush,” he asked teasingly. There was something of a relaxation in her frame. 

Clint was well aware that it had been some time that they had had this flirtation and he’d appreciated her form far too much to be exclusively partner-admiration. What he also knew was that she struggled to _go all the way_ as it were. Clint hoped she’d realize soon that that didn’t matter to him. He was enjoying what they had happening right now. He wasn’t some twenty-five year old just looking to get his dick wet. Her hands framed his face, pulling him from her breast to a hard, claiming kiss. “Think I can make your eyes roll up in your head,” Clint asked with a grin. 

“I think you should take my boxers off if you want to see.” She brought one of his hands to the waist. “Or at least get your hand in my pants.” 

“My boxers,” Clint corrected. “Actually… I think you should take them off.” His hands moved to her ass, giving it a squeeze followed by a deep groan. “You have the perfect ass.”  
Natasha unwrapped her legs from his waist, and Clint held her close, still gripping that sensational ass. “You have to let go of my ass if you want me to get naked,” Natasha pointed out. “You could revisit my breasts if you really can’t keep your hands off….” Clint cut her off with a kiss, pulling her up onto the balls of her feet and getting a little gasp. “Clearly you can’t,” she told him breathlessly when he finally let her move back. “Go sit on the bed.” 

Deciding to be a good boy and play along, Clint did, walking backward until his calves hit the edge of the bed. Natasha pushed the boxers down, stepping out of them and standing there for a moment. The sun hit a patch of skin on her hip, highlighting a few old scars and Clint suddenly wanted to hit his knees, crawl to her, and outline every one with the tip of his tongue. “You look … “ Clint refocused on her face when she spoke, “different than other men.” 

“Huh?” Clint wasn’t processing well. He looked down at the front of his tented boxers, confused. Most of his blood was not going to his brain. “How?” 

Natasha approached him slowly, sort of circling left for a moment before going back right. “Most men look at me like I’m a meal. Some can’t even speak. You… you look curious like you want to solve something. Me?” She reached out and took his hand, bringing it to her hip. “Am I a riddle to you Clint Barton?” 

Clint’s fingers traced the scars he’d seen earlier, leaning in to follow with his lips. He kissed her heated skin softly, making Natasha let out a soft little breath as her fingers rested in his hair. “No, sweetheart. You aren’t a riddle. You’re a fuckin’ Wonder of the World.” Clint looked up, watching her watch him. “I’m just glad I get to stare for awhile.” His hand ran down her bare thigh. “Lay down and get comfortable.” His fingers trailed down the side of her breast. “I want to see if my daydreams were close.” His hands stroked her thighs, watching as Natasha struggled just a little bit for a moment. “And if I’m terrible or you want me to stop for whatever reason, you say stop. I’ll stop.” Clint looked up at her, sincere. 

“I know, Clint.” Natasha ran her fingers through his hair, still wild with sleep. Natasha’s lip was trembling, her fingers gripping just a little too hard. They never directly addressed _why_ Natasha was so anxious about this. Clint was the one who was sent out in the field to find her early on, so he’d read about her life with the Red Room. He knew from reports what she had endured, but not from her own mouth. Clint doubted that would ever happen. If he broached the subject, she’d flee. All he could give her right now was the reminder that she was in control and hope that was enough. She leaned in to kiss him and Clint was pretty sure she was about to walk away when he felt the bed dip. 

Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, shifting back until she was in the middle of his bed. Clint knew the moment was heavy, but still smiled at the sight. “My only goal is to make you feel amazing, ok?” Clint turned, climbing into bed after her. He left his boxers on but did take a moment to pull off his shirt and throw it across the room. If Natasha flipped out, she could use that to choke him out. Though he should really be more worried about her snapping his neck when went in to finally get a taste. Clint ran his fingertips over her instep, getting a little smile. “I am excellent at taking directions when it comes to this… just so you know.” Clint hoped that gave Natasha free reign to tell him what to do. Plus, honestly, Clint liked to be bossed around by Natasha.


	12. Chapter 12

Clint started at the inside of her right ankle bone. Natasha thought it was a strange place to start, but soon enough he was creeping north, his lips and fingers rubbing gently over her muscles. Mostly she was just watching him, reaching down to run her fingers through Clint’s thick hair as he reached the spot behind her knee. Natasha jumped and Clint stopped, looking up immediately to see if she was ok. “It’s fine. Just… it was good.” He gave her a smug little smile then went back to running his tongue over the crease behind her knee. She let out a soft little moan, biting it back at the last moment to try to soften the sound a little. 

She felt his fingers sliding up her thigh, stroking as his mouth started up the other one. Clint was opening her legs, slowly revealing everything about her that her body tried to hide. Nothing would ever top the look on Clint’s face when his tongue ran between her folds. Later she’d attribute being able to continue at all with his expression in that moment. Clint was careful with his hands, using his fingers around and over, not in. She wished it wasn’t a problem for her, that being touched when she wasn’t in her Black Widow state of mind didn’t make her skin crawl more often than not. War raged in her mind as Clint’s mouth ran over her hip. “Beautiful,” Clint told her, his eyes skating over her skin. The gesture, that moment that he took to reconnect with her, calmed Natasha. 

When she’d come out here days ago to check on him, Natasha hadn’t anticipated any of this. She thought she’d get a few hours, put some salve on him, maybe have some dinner. She never would have imagined that she’d be laid back on Clint’s bed, legs open wide trying not to jump off the bed every time he got her a little too excited. Clint was good at what he was doing, was progressively cranking her higher with these movements, this focus, that she could honestly say she’d never experienced. Clint groaned against her folds, his chin pressing harder, drawing a gasp from her. Clint wasn’t dumb so he kept working that chin. Natasha couldn’t believe how good it felt despite his morning stubble. Maybe because of it because he was so quintessentially Clint. 

He looked up at her and though the bottom half of his face couldn’t be seen, she could tell by his eyes that Clint was smiling or at the very least incredibly pleased with himself. She dug a heel into his back and he refocused, edging her closer to completion. His hands moved around her legs to circle her hips so his hands could join low over her stomach. “Clint… CLINT!” Her hips hopped off the bed hard but Clint stayed with her. Natasha was incredibly pleased because he didn’t let her go. Her nails dug into his forearms hard and it wouldn’t be until later that she’d realize they punctured the back of his neck and his shoulder. “Please… fuck…” Her hands beat the bed for awhile, twisting in the sheets as Clint refused to let her go. It wasn’t in a bad way because he was chasing her pleasure. 

“Clint… please… that’s… too much…” she didn’t want to actually say stop because that was what she would say if it was too much and she didn’t ever want to get those mixed up in her head. He pulled back slowly, kissing his way to her thigh then across to the other one, his arms relaxing a little but not letting her go. Clint shifted up just enough to rest his head on her stomach, Natasha’s fingers sinking into his hair to stroke his scalp. In that moment her love for Clint was the highest it had ever been. On one level, she knew it was the chemicals he’d released in her body with that orgasm, but she didn’t really care. In that moment, if she was still capable of it, Natasha loved Clint Barton. 

That was why she was capable of what came next. “Come up,” Natasha urged Clint. While he took his time, Clint did end up making his way to a kiss. She pulled him close, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I want….” Clint kissed her throat, getting a shudder from her as he pressed the top of his thigh against her. She could clearly feel the outline of his cock and made her decision. “I want you to lie on your back.” Her hands moved to his boxers. “And I want you to take these off.” 

Clint kneeled up, giving her a grin before he put his hands into the waistband of his boxers, pushing down. “Slow,” Natasha teased as she sat up, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Give me a show, handsome.” She needed to take a beat before things progressed and Clint seemed to get it. He pulled his boxers down to reveal one hip, shifting so he was looking over his shoulder at her, peeking a cheek at her with a tug of his hands. He flashed her his ass a moment before jumping off the bed and pushing them down and stepping out. Clint turned and Natasha whistled. 

“So there is no way I can look good crawling back into bed, so…” Clint jumped into bed on his side, sliding about halfway up leaning on his elbow. “Eh… would have been better if I hit higher. More lift next time.” 

She knew he was trying to make a joke, to get a laugh, but all Natasha could do was stare at his cock. Natasha had had a lot of sex since the Red Room, sometimes for work, sometimes to prove to herself that she could. Until Clint she hadn’t done it because it was truly something she wanted. She reached out, her fingers stroking his hip. He scooted up the bed and laid next to her, his fingers slipping down her side. It was plain to see just how hard Clint was, how the head of his cock was wet and he was clearly feeling the ache of waiting too long. 

“Not bad, Barton.” She couldn’t help the tiny tremble in her voice as her fingers finally ran down the length of his cock. He groaned as she gave it a few strokes, reaching out to run his fingers over her breast. “Good handful.” Clint scoffed and she gave him a little wink. “More than a mouthful,” she asked with a raised brow.

“Better… still not the best way to describe a guy’s equipment. But I’m glad you like. I grew this boner just for you.” Clint gave his hips a little wiggle, making his cock bounce. She loved him for keeping this light, for leaning in that very moment to kiss her so she didn’t have to respond right away. She stroked him a few times as they kissed, getting him to break off the kiss to moan when she started rubbing the head of his cock with the palm of her hand in slow circles. “Fuck, Nat…” She kissed him again, continuing to stroke. 

Her confidence was building and she hoped that it would remain as they got deeper into this. “I don’t know how much…” Natasha slowed down, not removing her hand. She gripped him a little tighter, searching his face. 

“Whatever you can do, I’ll love,” Clint assured her. “Your hand is plenty if that’s what you’re comfortable with.” Clint might not think he was a good man, that he was a savior to her, but he was. He was sent to kill her, but he made that different call that brought them together. “I just want you.” The strain in his voice got to her and Natasha knew what she wanted to do. 

“… sit up against the headboard.” Clint waited until she let go of his cock to move, shifting quickly and fidgeting a little until he got comfortable. She crawled up to him, her hands rubbing the insides of Clint’t thighs. “I want you,” she told him plainly. “Soon. Right now I can give you this.” She hoped it would be enough to satisfy Clint. She was incredibly focused on her particular hangup about penetration, hoping that he wasn’t. 

“Fuck, Tasha.” She leaned in and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. “Holy shit.” Just because she didn’t actually enjoy doing this most of the time didn’t mean she wasn’t good at it. Natasha understood how bodies worked, where to touch, what to stimulate. Instead of using that knowledge to manipulate Clint’s body into doing what she wanted it to, she followed his lead, listening for his cues as her mouth stretched around him. 

He talked to her between groans and gasps, encouraging her or telling her just how good it was. And he said fuck. A lot. She also noticed that Clint was literally sitting on his hands. Natasha came up for a breath, shifting to straddle his thigh. It was enough that she could take both his hands and give them a tug. “You can touch me.” He went to speak and she kissed him to shut Clint up. “I want you to touch me.” She brought his hands to her hips. “You are the only one I want to touch me.” 

Clint’s fingers flexed against her hips at Natasha’s confession. She looked down, moving to resume her earlier attentions only Clint’s hands moved to her breasts, holding her with his fingers lopped around her back. She met his eyes, the shy little smile he gave her heartening Natasha and strengthening her resolve. “I’d snap the neck of anyone who tried… unless you got to them first.” Clint reminded her just how strong she was and that she didn’t have to submit to anyone anymore. There was no Red Room to abuse even one more child. Natasha had made damn sure of that with Clint’s help. That was the theme of her life now. _with Clint’s help_. But that was how this went, wasn’t it? People came into your life and if they had meaning, you started integrating them into everything. Clint was ingrained in her life, her heart. 

“I know you would.” They kissed a moment, Natasha stroking Clint with slow pulls just to let him know she hadn’t forgotten his plight. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers. He looked sad, almost resolute about something, and Natasha ran her fingers through his hair as she held him closer, Clint resting his head on her breast. “You know how much I want you, right Clint?” He looked up at her, nodding. “And one day…”

“… Natasha.” He took both her hands, making her focus on him despite what had to be a really painful erection by this point. “If you can do it today, next week, or two years from now, it’s fine. There’s a lot we can do without penetration.” She flushed. “Listen… do I want to be inside you? More than anything. Am I a big boy who’s capable of waiting? Yes.” Natasha didn’t say anything, just shifted back so she could wrap her lips around him once more. “Fuuuuuck, Natasha..” He gripped her shoulder, tensing as she started in on him without mercy. “Yes… God… fuckin’ perfect,” he growled and for a moment she felt that way. “I’m close… fuck, Nat.” 

She pulled back and finished him by hand, her mouth moving to his balls because what guy didn’t enjoy a little attention paid there? Clint was like most guys and sighed, opening his legs for the attention. It was Natasha humming around his balls and jerking him fast that finished Clint off. She aimed him at his stomach, managing to contain the mess. Out of all of it, what would stick with her the most would be how tenderly he stroked the back of her head even as he came. She looked up, noting just how wrung out Clint looked and just how prolific he’d been in his orgasm. “You got your chin,” she laughed as Natasha leaned in to kiss his jaw, cleaning off the mess he’d made. 

Natasha climbed up his body until she was resting right, wrapping her arms around a still panting Clint. “That was good, Nat… Damn… that was really good.” He grinned at her, his fingers smoothing her hair back out of her face before leaning in to kiss her. Clint didn’t stop holding onto her, didn’t stop running his mouth across her skin. Most of all, he kept telling her how good it was. It wasn’t faint praise either. “Hey… I meant what I said.” 

“You usually do,” she agreed. “You’ll have to be more specific, though.” 

“About being able to wait. And if it never happens, that’s ok too. Just keep doing what you just did and I will be a happy man.” Natasha wrapped her arms around Clint, squeezing him hard. “Ok, ok… don’t crush me.” She squeezed harder. Instead of squirming away, Clint pulled her closer, rocking Natasha a little. “I love you, Nat.” He said it into her hair, clearly with no expectation of hearing it back because Clint fell asleep almost immediately after. She loved how Clint could be the most complex being one moment then back to this simple, beautiful creature she was wrapped around the next. He started to snore and Natasha pulled the blanket up over them. She wouldn’t fall back asleep, but she also didn’t want to leave him. When his hand squeezed her hip and pulled her closer, the decision to stay was cemented. She’d waste hours of her day like this, but Clint was worth the trouble.


	13. Chapter 13

Since she’d put it in his head, Clint couldn’t stop thinking about what it was that kept Natasha from wanting him to penetrate her. Clint really hadn’t given it more consideration other than the fact that she wasn’t interested and had moved on. It was the way it stuck in her craw that had him thinking. And smoking. He still had some of the herbal treat he’d bought at the beginning of his vacation despite the serious smoke out he’d had with Natasha on day one. This would be coming to an end soon and Clint was incredibly melancholy about that. “Penny for your thoughts,” Natasha asked as she climbed out onto the fire escape with him. 

“I’d owe you change,” Clint lied as he patted the milk crate next to his. Sometimes he had a neighbor that came around and they’d drink beers and listen to the game. It was pretty nice actually, when Clint was around. “Sit down. Enjoy the weather.” She’d been in the kitchen fussing over something while he was out here thinking. 

“I smelled it,” she nodded to the joint in Clint’s hand, “and made you something.” From the other side of the wall, Natasha brought a plate with a giant sandwich and a bunch of chips on it. She set it on the crate and reached back inside. She came out with a coke and a beer, setting them both down before she sat on the crate, clearly knowing he’d have picked the food up by then. 

“Ham?” Natasha nodded. “Mustard?” She nodded. “Mayo?” 

“Are you going to list the contents of the fridge or are you going to eat the sandwich?” They had tickets later tonight to a show. It was some band she enjoyed and it was at a bar, those were the only two things Clint needed to know to decide it was worth his while. He took a big bite of the sandwich, wiping the anticipation from her face as he gave her a big thumbs up. It was good. Natasha could be incredibly generous and care so deeply. If only everyone saw her as he did. “So… I had an idea,” Natasha told Clint. 

“Yeah,” he asked between bites, dribbling some mustard down his chin. 

“I want to tie you up.” 

On one hand, Clint was glad for the warning. If Natasha really wanted to, he had no doubt she could figure out how to get the upper hand. On the other hand, that she was thinking about that and was this nervous to talk about it was weird to him. “Ok.” 

“… Clint,” Natasha asked. “Do you… do you get why?” 

“Do I get that a woman with staggering trust issues who has clearly been significantly mistreated by people she trusted, specifically men, would want to restrain a man almost twice her size in order to be confident enough to do something she doesn’t have to do in the first place?” Clint followed it by popping a chip in his mouth. “Yeah, I get it,” he said around a bite. Clint had to say, the look on her face was one he was tucking away for his memories. 

“… um… yeah.” She was looking out at the setting sun, her hair pulled back loosely at the nape of her neck. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ….” He reached out to take her hand, getting Natasha to look at him. “And, just so you know, if you ever want to hunt any of the guys on your shit list down… I’ve got your six.” Clint brought the back of her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles before refocusing on the sandwich. 

“You are an exceptional man, Clint.” He hated it when she talked like this, when she got so earnest he could almost see the little girl she might have been had the Red Room not snapped her up. “And it wouldn’t have to be the whole time, just long enough for me to…” It was clearly killing her to talk about this. It was killing him to not finish her sentence, but he knew she had to be the one to speak for herself. “I trust you.” 

“I know you do.” Clint set the plate down on the grates beneath their feet, pulling her over to sit straddling him. “And that’s why I’m going to show you a knot I have particular difficulty with.” They both knew handcuffs and zip ties wouldn’t work because they could both slip out of those. It was going to have to be ropes, scarves, something like that. “I… don’t have any bondage equipment lying around, though. Typically not my idea of fun.” 

She poked his shoulder hard. “Believe me, when I get to the point that I want to tie you up for fun, your eyes are going to roll up in your head.” He believed her. “Chips?” She opened the bag and offered it to him. Clint smiled a mustardy smile and stuck his hand in. 

“Oh… Barebeque… fuckin’ perfect.” Clint leaned over and kissed her in appreciation, a quick peck to the temple before he tucked back into his sandwich. Natasha just watched him, a little too still for it to be natural. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, maybe he’d even done something right because she slid in closer, resting her head on his chest as Clint finished his sandwich and watched the sun finish setting. 

She turned at some point, settling in a little closer. Clint was done with his sandwich, so he pulled her over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “We should leave by eight thirty,” Natasha told Clint as he stroked her hair. He made sure he didn’t get any chip dust in her hair. Girls didn’t like that and even though Natasha wasn’t a normal girl, she probably still wouldn’t like it very much. “That’s nice.” Clint kept stroking her hair, feeling Natasha relax against him. Clint was incredibly proud of the fact that she did this with him. Hypervigilant wasn’t even the word when she was with other men. 

“Hold on two seconds,” Clint pulled back, getting a pout from her as he put down his sandwich and chips. He was mostly done anyway. He tossed the blanket she’d left out here yesterday on the iron grates, hoping it wouldn’t be too bad. “Sit.” Natasha shrugged and followed his instructions, leaning back against him as Clint’s fingers plunged into her hair. The moment she realized that he was going to rub her head and shoulders, Natasha was 100% in. They relaxed there for quite awhile Natasha only moving when she wanted him to shift what he was doing. Otherwise, she let him work. 

“Why are you so nice to me?” Natasha didn’t look at him when she asked the question, not even when he considered how to answer it. 

“You’re my best friend,” Clint told her. “I think that’s reason enough.” 

“But why, Clint?” She finally turned, moving from the grates to sit on his knee, arm snaking around his neck. “What made you like me enough to be your best friend?” 

“What are you fishing for?” 

“I”m not… ok,” she admitted. “Maybe a little. Sometimes I just don’t get you.” 

“I’m a man of mystery.” 

“I tried to kill you the first time we met.” 

Clint shrugged, “that happens more than you’d think.” He did have a real winning personality after all. “Natasha,” his hands went to her waist. “If you’re wondering why I’m nice to you, why I take time with you, why you rate…. Well, you see, years ago there was this street urchin…”

“I was not a street urchin.”

“Who’s telling the story?” Clint leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Nah… I told you, I looked through my scope and I saw you. You were unguarded and I could see how tired you were.”  
“So you love me because I was tired?” 

“No, I am saying I didn’t pull the trigger because you looked tired.” Clint’s arms wrapped around Natasha’s waist. “I saw that you needed someone to give you a choice.” Clint knew he was right, with her upbringing who knew how often she’d been given an actual choice. Clint remembered how thin Natasha looked and how she’d struggled to eat in the small diner he’d taken her to. SHIELD had cleared the place for them and Coulson was in back cooking. Fury hadn’t gotten there yet and all they were doing was trying to give her a space to breathe. 

“I love that you saw that in me.” She’d told him that suicide had been on her mind for weeks before he’d pulled her in. Clint strongly suspected that it had been far longer than just a few weeks. “I love you.” Her fingers carded through his hair before she leaned in and kissed him slow and deep. Though he could feel the tears she shed, when he opened his eyes there was no trace of moisture. Clint’s fingers ran down her cheekbone until she turned to kiss the tips of his fingers. “I don’t want to go to the show.” She leaned in and kissed him, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding on. Clint kissed her slow and deep, one hand running up the small of her back, pushing the t-shirt she was wearing up. Natasha pressed her forehead to his, taking a slow, deep breath. “Clint,” she whispered his name like she was telling him a secret. It brought up gooseflesh, and rightfully so. Her fingertips ran down his neck as she pressed her lips to his ear and spoke. “I want you to take me inside and show me that knot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a song called: Comes Love. 
> 
> Lyrics:  
> Comes a rainstorm, get your rubbers on your feet  
> Comes a snow-storm, you can get a little heat  
> Comes love, nothing can be done.
> 
> Comes a fire, then you know just what to do  
> Blow a tire, you can buy another sure  
> Comes love, nothing can be done.
> 
> Don't try hiding cause there isn't any use  
> You start sliding when your heart turns on the juice
> 
> Comes a headache, you can lose it in a day  
> Comes a toothache, see your dentist right away  
> Comes love, nothing can be done.
> 
> Comes a heat-wave, you can hurry to the shore  
> Comes the summer, you can hide behind the door  
> Comes love, nothing can be done.
> 
> Comes the measles, you can quarrantine the room  
> Comes a mousy, you can chase it with the broom  
> Comes love, nothing can be done.
> 
> That's all brother, if you've ever been in love  
> That's all, brother, you know what I'm speaking of
> 
> Comes a nightmare, you can always stay awake  
> Comes depression, you may get another break  
> Comes love, nothing can be done.


End file.
